


Come Dance With Me

by Trickster_Angel



Series: Flowers Choke My Lungs [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Ice Skating, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, animal injury, take the illness stuff with a grain of salt, this one's gonna hurt folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_Angel/pseuds/Trickster_Angel
Summary: Viktor is diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease. His time is limited unless he gives up his love for Yuuri or Yuuri falls in love with him. But that's difficult when he has no idea where his love is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Note Please Read:** This fic deals with Hanahaki Disease, which automatically means this is going to be very angsty. I am choosing not to use archive warnings so as not to spoil the ending. Please keep this in mind while reading and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Viktor couldn’t sleep. Sure, he was sleeping in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar hotel, with Yakov and Mila in the rooms on either side of his. The bed was uncomfortable but tolerable. After all, he spent much of his time in unfamiliar hotels, sleeping in unfamiliar rooms. He was used to it at this point. It had nothing to do with that.

He missed Makkachin sleeping next to him. Viktor enjoyed hugging something in his sleep, which normally was his dog. Makkachin seemed to love it as well, as he spent every night curled up next to Viktor. But Makkachin was back in St. Petersburg, being watched by a neighbor. But that wasn’t what was keeping Viktor up either.

Instead, the image of a man pressed up against him, slurring sentences in a language Viktor didn’t know was keeping him up. He hadn’t known it at the time, but that man was Yuuri Katsuki, the Japanese representative at the Grand Prix, who had come in last. Yuuri had been drunk out of his mind, challenged Yuri to a dance off, which he then won despite how drunk he was. He’d pole danced with Chris, which Viktor had taken numerous photos of.

But Yuuri had come over to Viktor, his tie tied around his head, shirt unbuttoned and pants completely missing and had started drying humping him. Viktor hadn’t been sure what to think at first. Yuuri was talking to him but he didn’t understand the words until eventually he had switched to English, “Be my coach, Viktor!”

Viktor had danced with him that night and even remembering it, a blush blossomed across his face. Viktor Nikiforov, five time Grand Prix gold medalist, proclaimed best figure skater in the world, had never felt as alive as when he danced with Yuuri. It had been dumb, Yuuri barely able to dance with how drunk he was, but Viktor had loved it, every moment. Chris had already sent him the pictures and commented on how he smiled. He’d never seen him smile like that, not even when he won. It was real with Yuuri.

Viktor just wanted to talk about it to someone, anyone. But all his friends had been at the banquet and Makkachin just wouldn’t give him the response he wanted. He wanted to tell this story over and over again.

Maybe he was being silly but he didn’t care. Even as all the Russian skaters retired for the night after the banquet, Viktor had just been recounting the incident over and over again in his mind, smiling to himself. Yuri had rolled his eyes before turning to face Viktor.

“You’re too gay for your own good,” he had said. Mila snickered at that.  And that attracted Yakov’s attention.

“Thank you,” Viktor replied dreamily and Mila laughed out loud.

“Why would you even like a pathetic skater like that anyway?” Yuri continued.  

“He’s not pathetic,” Viktor said, tone turning serious. Mila stopped laughing.

“Why are you defending him? He came in last, got drunk at the banquet, and made a fool of himself. I think that’s pathetic.”

“But you danced with him, Yuri,” Mila added, “I got pictures. Did you get drunk too?”

“You better not have been drinking,” Yakov said darkly. Both Viktor and Mila had looked at him smugly, as they were of age to drink. Yuri had looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I was _not drinking_!” he shouted back.

“Oh, then you danced with a pathetic skater sober,” Mila teased.

“Shut up, hag,” Yuri snapped back.

Viktor tuned them out afterwards. Yuuri wasn’t pathetic. He made Viktor feel alive. And even now, lying in bed, he couldn’t get the memory out of his mind. He just kept thinking about Yuuri.

A tickle rose up in his throat and Viktor coughed. It did nothing so he had a drink of water. He hoped he wasn’t getting sick.

* * *

Viktor was up early. Truth be told, he had barely slept the entire night. He was going over all the pictures he’d taken plus the ones Chris sent him. He was amazed there was nothing on social media about this but it was fairly quiet. Not that Viktor had any want to post the pictures and he guessed no one else did either.

Mila had taken a video of Yuuri’s pole dancing routine and she’d sent that along. Viktor watched it more times than he was willing to admit.

But at seven in the morning, Viktor got up. He wanted to find Yuuri Katsuki and talk to him. Sure, the poor man probably had a wicked hangover, but Viktor just couldn’t contain himself anymore. The tickle in his throat hadn’t gone away yet but he ignored it in his quest to find Yuuri.

He knew Yuuri’s coach was Celestino but didn’t know where either of them were staying. He went to the receptionist to find out.

“Excuse me,” he said, “What room is Yuuri Katsuki staying in?”

She looked at him blankly before checking her computer. “Mr. Katsuki has already checked out. I’m sorry.”

“What about Celestino Cialdini?”

She looked down at the computer. “He’s checked out as well. Is that all, sir?”

Viktor tried not to show how disappointed he was. “That’s all. Thank you.”

He walked back upstairs to his own room. Once the door was locked, he texted Chris.

_Where does Yuuri Katsuki live?_

Chris didn’t answer for three hours. Viktor was already at the airport to go back to St. Petersburg when he finally got a text back.

_Good morning to you too. :P_

_I have such a hangover. X(_

Viktor couldn’t help but smile.

_You drank a lot last night._

_So did you. :P_

_I’m Russian._

There was a good minute before Chris’s reply.

_Right. I forgot you had vodka in your bottle as a baby._

Despite his usual love of bantering with Chris, Viktor was growing impatient.

_Do you know where Yuuri is?_

_Probably Japan. He is the Japanese representative._ That was not what he was looking for.

“Viktor. The plane’s about to take off,” Yuri snapped, “You’re not still on about that skater are you?”

Viktor smiled to himself. “Yes I am. But you don’t need to worry about that, Yuri.”

“Whatever,” the younger skater said. He stormed away to where Yakov and Mila were. Viktor coughed lightly.

* * *

As soon as Viktor got back to his apartment, the first thing he did was collect his dog. Makkachin was excited to see him, barking happily and tackling Viktor to the ground so he could lick his face properly.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Viktor said. Makkachin barked in response, circling back around to bathe Viktor in his kisses again.

Once they were safely back inside his apartment and Makkachin was fed, Viktor got his computer out to start his internet stalking. He collapsed onto the couch, ready to begin as he listened to his dog devouring his food.

Yuuri Katsuki had a page on the JSF website with a few pictures and a little blurb about his career that hadn’t been updated in six months. He had an Instagram but it had three pictures, two of Phichit Chulanont and one of ice skates in the box. That account had only two followers, Phichit and someone named Kenjirou Minami. However it hadn’t been updated in three years so that was a dead end.

If Yuuri had a Facebook, it was private so Viktor didn’t find it. He found a few twitters with his name attached and were entirely in Japanese. Once he sent it through Google Translate, he was reasonably sure that they were fan run and not Yuuri himself.

He started coughing. That damn tickle would just not go away. He decided to make himself some tea before continuing his search.

As he came back to the couch, mug in hand, Makkachin jumped up, ready to cuddle with his owner. It took some maneuvering but he finally managed to sit comfortably with both his laptop and dog.

Several more searches yielded nothing on Yuuri himself but he was easily able to find the exact location of the training facility where Celestino worked. Maybe that’s where Yuuri was but he couldn’t be sure.

Viktor was disappointed but stopped. There was nothing else he could get now. But he wanted to find this skater again.

* * *

“Happy birthday, Viktor and Georgi!” Champagne glasses clinked together and everyone at the table finished their drink.

It had been a few days since the Grand Prix Final and Viktor was in a bar with several other skaters, celebrating his and Georgi’s birthdays, as they were born only a day apart. He didn’t plan to stay long; he was sure he had a cold now. He constantly felt like coughing and his throat hurt. But the other skaters wanted to take him out and he couldn’t say no.

There were at least twenty of them there. They were being loud, getting progressively drunk. Every time Viktor tried to leave, citing his cold as an excuse, he was given more alcohol to kill the cold. His cold didn’t feel much better but he was drunk, and that made him feel a bit better.

Anya and Georgi were making out in the corner, which wasn’t too odd for them. The rest of the party were making fun of them and Viktor joined in. They were happy together so they deserved to be teased.

“When are you gonna bring a girl?” one of the skaters asked Viktor, “We’re tired of seeing Anya and Georgi stealing the show.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Anya said, snuggling close to her boyfriend.

“Are you saying Viktor can’t get a girlfriend?” another skater asked.  They all laughed.

“I can seduce anyone I want,” Viktor slurred confidently.

“Oh, we know,” one of skaters said. Viktor was fairly certain he had slept with her before but when the skaters went out drinking, anything could happen. Yakov absolutely hated their drinking nights as they’d all go to practice the next day hungover but it didn’t stop them. “Surely, you’re not going home alone on your birthday, Viktor.”

“He doesn’t even need to open his mouth to seduce you,” Georgi said.

“He doesn’t need to. Look at him! There’s no one who can resist Viktor.” The skater from before turned back to Viktor. “So, what do you say?”

“I-” His words turned into loud coughing. He could feel it in his lungs as he coughed, putting his arm in front of his mouth to block it. Everyone stared at him.

“Take a drink, Viktor,” the skater said. He nodded, still coughing, and drank some water. It helped some and he finally stopped. He looked to the table to put the water back down and noticed something. On the table was a lilac petal. It was small, no bigger than his fingernail. He didn’t remember there being any plants around. He’d probably missed it.

“Feeling better?” Anya asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” he replied.

“He deserves another drink,” someone shouted and they all ended up doing shots of vodka.

Viktor was barely able to stumble home later that night.

* * *

Viktor woke up with a horrendous hangover. The alcohol had done nothing to help his throat. It hurt, possibly even worse than before. He coughed loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. His head hurt too much to care. Makkachin jumped up, scared by Viktor’s coughing. He whined loudly, getting close to Viktor to see if he was okay.

Viktor covered his mouth to not scare his dog. When he finally managed to get it under control, he took his hands away, only to notice something there. Another small lilac petal was in his hands.

Viktor felt a chill run up his spine. The only thing he could think of was Hanahaki Disease. It was a brutal disease, where one’s lungs would fill up with flowers if they fell into unrequired love. If one’s love was reciprocated in time, the flowers would die away and if not, it was fatal. The only cure was surgery, which would also entail the loss of one’s memories of their love.

Viktor couldn’t have Hanahaki. He was a figure skater, a professional athlete. He needed his lungs to be in perfect shape or he couldn’t compete.

He got out of bed and immediately called his doctor. If this was Hanahaki, then it was better to get diagnosed early. At least then he’d know and start his seduction. Makkachin looked at him lazily as he paced in his bedroom, hurriedly trying to make an appointment. He couldn’t take off from practice for this.

He got an appointment for later that day. He quickly got dressed to head down to the skating rink. He took Makkachin for a quick walk first. They went around the neighborhood, Makkachin stopping to sniff at every telephone pole he found.

“It’ll be fine, right, Makkachin?” Viktor said. Makkachin barked happily in reply, his tail wagging fiercely. He’d be fine. It wouldn’t be Hanahaki, just a cold. He’d be fine.

* * *

Two weeks later, he sat in the doctor’s office, while the doctor looked at his chest x-rays and pointed out the stems digging into his lungs. He could see his own ribs, his heart, and the black spots that were his lungs. White stems ran through them, jutting in and out. He could even see a few flowers poking out. He coughed deeply, so much so his lungs hurt. It was Hanahaki, no way to deny it.

“We ran tests on the sample you gave us,” she explained, unperturbed by his coughing, “You have viscaria growing in your lungs. And it’s progressing rapidly. I’ve never seen a case this severe this early on. You said you’ve only been in love for a month.”

Viktor nodded solemnly, the words shocked right out of him. He had Hanahaki. He had viscaria growing in his lungs. It was severe. He was dying. He loved Yuuri so much it was killing him.

“At this rate, I’d give you maybe two months to live. I’m sorry. Now, we do offer surgery-”

“I’m not having the surgery,” Viktor interrupted her. Surgery meant that he would survive but when his unrequited love would be taken from him, he’d also lose his memories of his love. And he couldn’t forget. Not Yuuri. He couldn’t forget the one time he felt alive. Just thinking of that night, of the drunk Japanese man who lost all his clothes and danced with him, made Viktor’s heart race. He couldn’t lose that.

His doctor regarded him seriously. “At this rate, you will lose lung function rapidly. Considering your career, it would be wise to-”

“I can’t forget him.” Viktor’s open hands turned into fists.

She nodded at him. “Maybe people believe that they can make their love fall in love with them. Your reaction is not abnormal, Mr. Nikiforov.” She handed him a pamphlet. “But please reconsider. We can have you back on the ice a month after surgery.”

Viktor took the pamphlet and looked at the cover. It was a picture of a young woman smiling. It just made him angry. They thought he’d be happy to lose his love? Did they have any idea what this meant to him?

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more I can do,” the doctor replied, standing up. He stood up too. He walked out of her office quietly.

He walked out to his car and got in. He didn’t even attempt to start it. Instead, he pulled out his phone. They said the flower that grew when one had Hanahaki was representative of the love you had. A quick search got him what he wanted. Viscaria meant “come dance with me”. And that made sense. After all, that was all he wanted from Yuuri. To dance with him like they had at the banquet. He just wanted to find Yuuri again. If he could, then he would be saved.

* * *

“Viktor, what’s wrong with you?” Yakov shouted at him. Viktor couldn’t remember messing up so many jumps. But it was hard to build up enough speed when he couldn’t breathe. So he’d mess up and fall and try to hold in his coughs. No one besides his doctor knew he was sick and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. Worlds was coming up and he was determined to win.

Besides, his only connection to Yuuri was through these competitions so he had to keep competing. He didn’t know how else to find him. Sure, he’d come in last at the GPF but maybe he’d be at Worlds anyway, even if just to cheer on the other skaters. He sure seemed friendly with Chris, after all.

“Sorry,” he replied, letting out a small cough. His lungs felt like they’d explode but he kept it in.

“You can’t take your wins for granted,” Yakov continued.

“Yes, Yakov,” Viktor replied, trying to sound like his usual flippant self. He got back on his feet and his lungs couldn’t take it anymore. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. He could feel the petals fill his mouth. He gasped, trying to take a breath between coughs; lilac viscaria petals fell into his hand. He leaned on the wall of the rink, trying to get his breath back. The sounds of blades scrapping against ice stopped. Everyone must have been staring at him.

He finally managed to get his coughing under control. He swallowed hard, trying to force all the petals down.

“Are you sick?” Yuri called to him.

“I’m okay,” Viktor said, forcing a smile on his face, “Just a cold.”

“The same one?” Georgi asked, “You were sick at our birthday party too.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “I just need to practice.”

“And fall on your ass again?” Yuri asked.

“Yuri!” Yakov called, silencing the fourteen year old.

Viktor skated back out, ready to try again. His lungs were burning, aching to cough up more petals, but he wouldn’t let it happen. It seemed ironic. He wanted to surprise the audience, keep them guessing. At this rate, they would be guessing whether he could actually perform his jumps. But he wanted to keep his illness a secret as long as possible. He had two months to live unless he found Yuuri and made him fall in love. He could keep it together for a little while longer.

* * *

Every night, Viktor curled up in bed with a cup of tea, his laptop, and Makkachin by his side. His dog normally flopped down, resting his head on Viktor’s lap and forcing him to move the laptop back towards his knees. It wasn’t comfortable but Makkachin was one of the few bright spots in Viktor’s life at the moment. He deserved to rest his head wherever he wanted.

He’d spend hours combing the internet, trying to find some trace of Yuuri. He’d competed in the Japan Figure Skating Championships and had come in eleventh place. The Japanese representative at the Grand Prix came in eleventh. He’d clawed his way to get to the Grand Prix, came in last, and then came in eleventh in nationals. Viktor wanted nothing more than to hug him. He probably needed comfort after that. Maybe he’d get shitfaced again and do something else wild that would actually end up on social media this time. 

But the thought of Yuuri, dear, sweet, plastered Yuuri, grinding on someone else made Viktor angry. He could imagine Yuuri kissing someone, bringing someone back to his home, sleeping with them. He would be drunk, what would it matter to him? What did Viktor matter to him; he had been drunk. Probably nothing, and Viktor’s heart ached more than his chest.

He coughed and lilac petals scattered. Makkachin looked up, huffed, and lay back down. Viktor could play “he loves me, he loves me not” with the petals he coughed out. There were five petals.

_He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me._

Morbid, he knew, as he collected the petals. He instead stroked Makkachin’s fur. The dog seemed content enough with that. His short tail started wagging.

“Someone has to know where he is,” Viktor said out loud. It was accompanied with a cough and the expulsion of three more petals. _He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not._ “He’s the only person who can save me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. The fic will be updated on Mondays and Thursdays until completion. Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was, ironically, the quadruple flip that did him in. This was the jump he was known for, his signature move, and it ended his skating career.

It had been a good practice, before that. Despite how much he wanted to cough, despite how much harder it was to breathe, Viktor had managed to land all his jumps. His body was going to give him hell after he finished his routine but for the moment, he was on a roll. Maybe he got cocky. But he tried another quadruple flip. At that moment, he couldn’t suppress the urge to cough. He leapt at the same time and that wasn’t the best idea. He, of course, crash landed on the ice, coughing his lungs, and many petals, up.

Everyone stopped skating to watch Viktor cough up petals onto the ice. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hide it anymore.

Something caught in his throat. He actually couldn’t breathe. His heart started racing, adrenaline pumping. He was terrified. He couldn’t breathe. His hands went to his neck as he coughed harder, trying to dislodge whatever was there.

“Viktor!” The sound of blades moving towards him filled the rink.

“Are you choking?” Mila asked. Viktor couldn’t answer so he just nodded.

Someone started pounding on his back and although it hurt, whatever was stuck in his throat was freed and fell out of Viktor’s mouth. He coughed, just getting his breath back. He looked at the ice to see what had been choking him. It was a flower, an entire viscaria flower. Between that and the lilac petals on the ice, he knew it was over. Everyone had to know.

“Viktor.” Suddenly Yakov was next to him, helping him back to his feet, “Get back to practicing, all of you.” The crowd of skaters that had gathered around him backed up but they did not leave.

Yakov supported him as they left the rink. Viktor continued to cough weakly, scattering viscaria petals as they went. His lungs hurt so badly. Once they left the ice, all Yakov said was, “Take off your skates.”

“Yakov, I’m alright now. I can just put the guards-”

“Vitya, take them off.” Yakov didn’t sound particularly angry, just concerned. Maybe even defeated. Viktor never heard him take that tone. So he did as he said and took off the skates. He was then dragged into Yakov’s office in nothing more than his socks. It seemed degrading but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too disappointed in himself to care. His secret was out. Everyone knew he had Hanahaki and he had just coughed up his first flower. He’d been in love with Yuuri for only two months and already, he was coughing up entire flowers. The doctor had been right; it was severe.

“How long have you had Hanahaki Disease?” Yakov asked.

There was no point in lying. Viktor was too tired to lie. “Two months.”

“And how long did you plan to wait to tell me?”

And there it was. What could he say to that?

“Did you plan to go to Worlds like this?” Yakov asked.

“I can do it,” Viktor replied.

“You’re stubborn but you’re not stupid. You know you can’t perform at Worlds like this. Withdraw. If you have the surgery now, you’ll be ready to practice for the next season.”

“Withdraw?” Viktor asked, “I’m not going to withdraw. I’m not publically saying I have Hanahaki.”

“Then say you’re taking time off to find a new direction. Weren’t you thinking of doing that anyway?”

He had been. He had felt as though he couldn’t go any further with his skating. But Yuuri had changed that. He made Viktor feel adventurous. He knew he could choreograph a new routine with nothing guiding him but the love he felt for the other man and he knew he could win with it.

“I can keep skating,” Viktor said, “Just until Worlds.  After that I’ll take a break.”

“If you’re already coughing up flowers, you’re far along. How long did the doctor give you?” Yakov paused, eyeing Viktor suspiciously. “Did you see your doctor yet?”

“I have.” Viktor paused. He was coming up on the end of the timeline. “She gave me two months.”

“You won’t make it to Worlds. If you have the surgery now you can be back before next season. Take some time to consider your health, Vitya. But don’t come back here to skate until you’re cured.”

Yakov left him in his office, dumbfounded. How could he be so cruel? He knew Viktor was stubborn, knew he’d do what he wanted to and not what Yakov suggested. But to ban him from skating? It wasn’t the greatest threat; he could easily go to another rink. If he truly wanted to continue, he could. But Yakov’s words rang true. Viktor’s lungs were close to giving out. He couldn’t skate like this.

It broke his heart, his already aching heart, but Yakov was right. He couldn’t keep skating.

He left the office to collect his skates. Yuri was standing by them, water bottle in hand, looking right at Viktor.

“Who is it?” Yuri asked without preamble.

Viktor didn’t answer as he picked up his skates. He was about to walk away when Yuri said, “It’s the other Yuuri, isn’t it?”

Viktor met Yuri’s eyes. He was a little annoyed that this boy knew it. Was he that obvious? Then again, Viktor Nikiforov and _subtle_ just didn’t go together.

“Yes, it’s Yuuri,” Viktor replied.

“Figured. It makes sense.” Yuri then went back onto the ice. Viktor tried not to feel wildly jealous of that. Yuri still had his whole career in front of him. And Viktor had just watched his end.

* * *

Viktor had learned during the entirety of his career that if he was trending, it normally was not good. The last time this had happened, a fan had taken a picture of him coming out of Chris’s hotel room. The fan theories had been wild. Of course, the seemingly most outrageous were the truth, he _had_ been sleeping with Chris. Yakov had yelled at him over that one but he’d gotten laid so he hadn’t minded too much.

But seeing _#don’tleaveViktor_ and _#Nikiforovretirement_ trending on almost all social media was just as painful for him as it was for his fans. He’d finally announced that he was taking a break, citing the same reason Yakov had given him: he needed to find a new direction. There was no mention of his illness and Yakov had sworn all the skaters to secrecy about it.

The fans were in hysterics, all begging and hoping that he wasn’t retiring, that this truly was just a break. And Viktor knew it was. As soon as he found Yuuri and made him fall in love with him, he’d be right back out on the ice. Hell, they’d probably compete against each other. He could just imagine that, the two of them on the podium, together. Viktor wouldn’t even care where on the podium he was standing, so long as he was there with Yuuri.

Viktor had to turn off notifications on his phone as people were trying to contact him on all his social media. He’d released a statement and nothing else, purposely leaving his social media alone.

So when his phone vibrated, he assumed he’d forgotten to turn off notifications on something. And he had on text messages. Chris was texting him.

_Just heard the news. Is everything okay?_

Chris was a friend and Viktor wanted to tell him. He wanted someone to know the truth.

_I have Hanahaki Disease. I can’t compete._

He got a text back almost immediately.

_Who is it? Someone I know?_

_Do you remember Yuuri Katsuki? From the banquet?_

_Do I remember Yuuri? I’ll never forget the way he works a pole. Is it him?_ Viktor chuckled as he texted Chris back.

_Yes._

It took a few minutes for Chris to respond. But when he did, he sent a phone number. Then another message came in. _This is his number. Call him and make sure you’re back next season. :)_

Viktor’s hand started shaking. This was it. This was his ticket to finding Yuuri. He could call and talk to him. He could make him fall in love this way. He coughed violently, Makkachin sitting up to look at him in confusion.

Something blocked Viktor’s throat. Another flower was working its way up. He coughed as hard as he could, trying to dislodge it. Finally, it fell out of his mouth and onto the bed, covered in his saliva. It was disgusting. But he wasn’t concerned with it. After all, he had Yuuri’s number now. Makkachin wandered over, resting his head in Viktor’s lap. Viktor stroked his fur.

He couldn’t have gotten Yuuri’s number at a better time. He called the number, bringing his phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times.

“Hello?” Viktor’s breath caught in his throat. _Finally._

“Hello. Is this Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

_Oh, I’m Viktor Nikiforov, five time Grand Prix champion, easily swooned pansexual, by the way, I’m in love with you and it’s destroying my lungs._ Not exactly the best way to start off a romance. “It’s Viktor.”

There was a pause on the other end. “I’m sorry. Who?”

“Viktor Nikiforov.” There was a long pause. Viktor had to check his phone to make sure they were still connected. They were. Yuuri was just being extremely quiet.

“Is this some kind of prank? Did Phichit put you up to this? Because that’s cruel, even for him.” Yuuri laughed. “Tell him I’m going to kill him when I come home.” The call ended. Viktor pulled his phone back and stared at it. Were they disconnected? And Yuuri thought this was a prank? They were peers; they competed together. Was it honestly so odd that they become friends, especially after the banquet? Makkachin sneezed and sat up.

“He didn’t believe me, Makkachin,” Viktor said. His dog sneezed again in response.

Viktor immediately redialed. He just needed to get the words out. Yes, he was Viktor. Yes, he wanted to talk to Yuuri. He had to make this work. His life depended on it.

No matter how many times Viktor called, Yuuri never picked up. He sent many messages explaining everything but got no reply. It took him a while for him to realize that Yuuri had probably blocked him.

He locked his phone and violently coughed into his hands. He was making a strange noise but he was hardly surprised. He seemed to be getting worse by the day.

Finally he stopped coughing but the noise didn’t stop. Then he realized what it was. The flower he’d coughed up was gone. Makkachin was choking.

* * *

“It was close,” the vet said, “But your dog will be just fine. You should keep your flowers out of places where he can reach, Mr. Nikiforov.” She passed Makkachin’s leash to Viktor. He knelt down and Makkachin barreled into him; the only reason he wasn’t knocked over was because he was expecting it. Makkachin licked his face, tail wagging furiously. Viktor wrapped his arms around his dog, petting his soft fur. Why was all this happening?

“Thank you,” Viktor said, not moving from the spot. He was almost crying in relief. He was just thankful that Makkachin was alive. He’d already lost his skating to his disease. He couldn’t stand to lose Makkachin too.

He turned away from Makkachin to cough into his arm. Several petals flew out of his mouth but he collected them all and put them in his pocket. He didn’t want any more pet owners to go through what he just had.

“I’m just glad it worked out,” the vet said. She disappeared into the back again, leaving Viktor to pay the secretary. He walked back out to his car. Makkachin pranced over excitedly, eager to go for a car ride. Viktor opened up the backseat and Makkachin happily hopped inside.  He closed the door and got into the front seat himself. Makkachin put his head on the armrest, begging for a petting. Viktor complied happily. Anything for his dog. He was just so happy he was alive.

“Yuuri is going to kill us both, isn’t he?”

* * *

Two days later, Chris texted Viktor. _How did it go?_

Viktor had been too concerned with Makkachin to really think about it. In some ways, it helped. Viktor didn’t have time to think about the rejection when he had to tend to his dog. On the other hand, he now had to face reality; Yuuri thought his call was some sort of prank and had blocked him. And apparently wanted to kill a friend of his.

_Not well. He blocked me._

Chris’s picture came up. He was calling him. Viktor picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“He blocked you?! What did you do?!”

“Nothing. I just said my name and he thought I was pranking him.” He coughed.

Chris sighed. “He thought you were pranking him?”

“It was like he couldn’t believe I’d ever call him.”

“That is a problem.” Chris went silent for a minute.  “Let me call him. I’ll tell him I gave you his number. He’ll believe me.”

“And then what? If he didn’t believe I’d call him, how will he react when he realizes he blocked me?”

Chris was quiet for a moment. “That is a problem.”

“Chris, I need to make him fall in love with me. I need every advantage I can take.” He coughed again. Makkachin batted at the petals as the fell to the ground.

“Viktor, you’re losing time.”

“I need to find a way to meet him. I need to find him.”

Chris went silent again. “He’s friends with Phichit Chulanont. He posts a lot of pictures of the two of them. Maybe he’ll post something.”

Viktor was on Instagram immediately, typing in Phichit’s name. He found his account and there he was. The first picture was a selfie by Phichit with Yuuri skating in the background. Viktor followed his account immediately. If he had a chance to see Yuuri, he’d take it.

“Where is that facility?” Viktor said, “Who is Phichit’s coach?”

“Give me a second.” There was the sound of typing and a door opening. “Hey, babe.”

“Chris, I didn’t know you cared,” Viktor said. He laughed a little, which transitioned into a cough.

“You’re so greedy. No, not you, babe. I’m on the phone with Viktor. It’s my boyfriend, Viktor.” Chris was clearly having two conversations at once. Christophe kissed his boyfriend and then the typing resumed.

“He’s also taught by Celestino. They’re probably both in Detroit.”

“That’s a start. Thank you, Chris.”

“No problem. Feel better, Viktor. Just sleep with him already so you can be cured. Yes, babe, we can do that too.”

“Go have fun, Chris.”

“Bye, Vik-” He hung up abruptly, not that Viktor was going to blame him. He put down his phone and looked at the first picture. It had been replaced already with a selfie of both Phichit and Yuuri. They were both smiling happily. The picture’s caption was _When Viktor Nikiforov follows you on Instagram! XD_

Viktor liked the photo and then commented. _Cute picture. ;)_ He sincerely hoped he didn’t kill them both with the comment. Then he’d never be cured.

* * *

A week passed with him bantering with Phichit on Instagram and subtly trying to seduce Yuuri through him. Of course, he had no idea how much Phichit showed him but it was his best form of communication at the moment. He always complimented Yuuri when he appeared in the photos and tried to keep Phichit posting. It seemed to work; Phichit was uploading photos at a ridiculous rate.

Viktor’s chest felt tight as the stems constricted his lungs. He had much less energy now. It took a great deal of effort to take care of himself. He could barely get down a flight of stairs without taking a break. He was taking the elevator more often than he wanted to. He had been a professional athlete, the best figure skater in the world, and now he couldn’t even climb a damn flight of stairs. Yakov was right, he wouldn’t have made it to Worlds. He was too weak now. After all, he was past the timeline his doctor had given him.

At the end of the week, Phichit posted a picture of himself and Yuuri. They were in what Viktor had realized was their dorm room. Half the room was stripped bare and there were suitcases on the ground. The picture was captioned with _Yuuri’s leaving me. T_T_

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t been able to visit Yuuri in Detroit and now he was leaving. This was the only lead he had and it was disappearing.

Viktor started coughing. A flower caught in his throat and he choked until he finally managed to dislodge it. The flower fell into his hand. It was covered in blood.

There were so many signs that Viktor was dying. He had to find Yuuri again. He couldn’t let him slip away.

* * *

He couldn’t watch the Worlds competition. It was the first time he wasn’t in it in a long time. As much as he wanted to cheer Chris on, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stayed on social media instead, which told him the results anyway. Chris won, followed by Otabek Altin and Jean-Jaques Leroy.

He sent Chris a congratulatory text and then continued through social media. There were no reports on where Yuuri had gone after he’d left Detroit. Phichit was still posting plenty of pictures but he never referred to Yuuri in any of them. Viktor’s time was running out.

His phone started vibrating. He picked it up to see who was calling. It was Chris.

He picked up the phone but he opened his mouth and just started coughing instead. He could barely breathe but he was more than used to it. He had to find Yuuri and soon because he didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

“Viktor?! Viktor, are you okay?”

It took him another minute to get the coughing under control. Petals were scattered all over the bed. Then again, they seemed to be everywhere nowadays.

“I’m alright,” Viktor replied. He felt the urge to cough again but fought against it. “Congratulations on your win at Worlds.”

“Viktor, have you seen the video?”

“What video?”

“I’m sending it to you now. I thought you were checking social media.”

“I am. It’s all over you.” He couldn’t hold it back anymore and started another coughing fit. Makkachin whined softly, moving on the bed to get close to Viktor.

“Viktor?”

“I’m okay. What video, Chris?”

“It’s Yuuri.”

Viktor almost dropped his phone in surprise. He loaded up his email as fast as he could, cursing at his computer when it was going slow. Eventually he saw Chris’s email. All it had was a link to a Youtube video. He clicked on it.

Youtube seemed to load at a snail’s pace.

“Did you see it yet?” Chris asked excitedly.

“Not yet. It won’t-” The video finally loaded. Viktor dropped his phone. “[Katsuki Yuri] Tried to Skate to Victor’s FS program [Stay Close to Me]”.  Yuuri was skating to his program. He was skating to _his_ program.

“Viktor? Hello? Viktor? Are you okay?”

Viktor pressed his phone back to his ear. “Chris. He did my free program.”

“I know. He’s not bad either. Much better than at the Grand Prix final.”

Viktor’s eyes were glued to his screen. He couldn’t take his eyes off the other man. Yuuri had lowered the difficulty of some of the jumps and he did mess up some elements but it was a very good attempt.

Yuuri brought something to the program Viktor couldn’t. Maybe it was his innocence. Despite what happened at the banquet, Yuuri could pull off the innocence of the piece. In fact, he was very good at it. Maybe better than Viktor himself.

He felt like he’d had the air knocked out of him. His chest hurt so much. He coughed as he watched the video. Every second Yuuri skated, Viktor just fell more in love.

“He’s obviously a fan. Maybe that’s why he didn’t believe you when you called him.”

“He’s amazing,” Viktor sighed.

“I know. You need to find him.”

“Thank you, Chris. At least I have a clue now.” He hung up the phone and replayed the video. His eyes followed Yuuri as he skated. The angle was bad, the camera shaky, but it didn’t matter. Yuuri was all that mattered. And he was so amazing.

It took until his twelfth replay to notice that on the walls where he was skating, there were words. Viktor couldn’t make them out but all he had to do was replay the video. After careful pausing, he saw the words “Ice Castle Hatsetsu”. A quick google search gave him an address; Hatsetsu, Japan. Yuuri was back in Japan. Viktor smiled to himself. Finally. He finally found him. It was time for him to go.

“Makkachin, we’re going to Japan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed the chapter. See you next Monday for chapter 3.


	3. Chapter 3

The Katsukis were very accommodating. Apparently, business had been slow as of late, so they were grateful for a paying customer. They didn’t even mind him bringing Makkachin, saying he looked like their recently deceased dog. Yuuri was out at the moment but he was home. So Viktor’s trip wasn’t a waste.

They’d gotten him settled into a room and then suggested he go to the hot spring to relax. He was quick to agree. Maybe it would do his lungs some good.

The hot water was wonderful. He was alone in the outdoor bath, perfectly content. He hoped Yuuri would show up soon. He was eager to start his seduction. Hopefully all the comments on Instagram helped him. Yuuri was a fan after all. And he wanted this. He wanted Viktor to be his coach. So here he was, ready to act like a coach. Sure, it was a spur of the moment decision, but he was ready for this. If this was what it took to cure himself, he’d do anything. For Yuuri, he’d do anything.

There were footsteps stomping towards him. Viktor could only hope. Was this it?

Yuuri ran outside, and just stopped dead once they made eye contact. He looked almost horrified. “Viktor. Why are you here?”

Viktor wanted to cough. But he couldn’t reveal that to Yuuri. Not yet. He stood up and gestured dramatically. He may be dying but no disease could take his flair for the dramatic from him. “Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”

He winked. Yuuri screamed.

* * *

Viktor liked pretending to be asleep. He could feel Yuuri’s eyes on him. Sure, he couldn’t understand what was being said between Yuuri and the other woman, but he still felt like he was eavesdropping. Not that he minded. He felt pretty comfortable cuddled up with Makkachin. Besides, he knew they were talking about him. He could hear his name intermingled with words he didn’t understand.

Yuuri hadn’t reacted like he’d expected. After all, where did the confident, sexy man of the banquet go? Yuuri had practically run away from him when he’d agreed to come coach him. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Viktor couldn’t push out the image of the man sitting near him, whispering in hushed Japanese to someone else, grinding on him and yelling out that he wanted Viktor to be his coach in English. Now, he seemed so timid. Was that the difference between drunk and sober Yuuri?

Viktor sneezed. Well, his cover was blown now. He sat up, pretending to be groggy. He felt such a strong urge to cough but he didn’t want to. He had to keep that secret for now. He didn’t want Yuuri to feel pressured because of the time bomb he had attached to him.

He sat up and turned to look at Yuuri over his shoulder. “I’m starving,” he muttered weakly, “Hungry.” The robe he was wearing slipped off his shoulder. Yuuri looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

The woman sitting next to him said something in Japanese.

“Um. What would you like to eat?” Yuuri seemed so flustered. So unlike the man Viktor had fallen in love with. But he was cute when he was flustered. Viktor liked this side of Yuuri too. He needed to get the petals out of his lungs.

“Hmm. As your coach, I’d like to know what your favorite food is, Yuuri.”

In the minutes that Yuuri and the woman left and Viktor was alone, he coughed up as many petals as he could. Once Yuuri was falling in love, he might tell him. He didn’t need to know he had Viktor’s life in his hands. He put the petals in the pocket of his robe, for disposal later.

Makkachin seemed interested in what he was doing, sitting up and wagging his tail.

“Sorry, Makkachin, this isn’t for you,” he whispered in Russian. The dog looked sad and lay back down, head on his paws, looking up at Viktor as if asking for a treat. But they were back in his room so he had nothing for the dog. He patted his head and Makkachin seemed to be in better spirits afterwards.

Viktor coughed again, getting another few petals out. He was just lucky he didn’t feel the need to cough up a flower.

Yuuri came back out with the woman, who was introduced as Minako. She understood some English but Yuuri was better at it. He was able to talk with them until the food was brought out.

“Wow, amazing,” Viktor exclaimed. It looked really good.

“Our specialty, the pork cutlet bowl, extra-large.” Yuuri’s mother said.

Viktor tried one bite before he said, “Vkusno!” He switched back into English and translated himself, “Delicious! Too good for words! Is this what God eats?” He dug in, eating only slow enough that he knew he wouldn’t choke. If he coughed, petals would come up.

“I’m glad you like it,” Yuuri said shyly, looking down at the table and not at Viktor.

“Yuuri gains weight easily, so he was only allowed to eat it when he won a competition, right?” Minako said. Yuuri shot up to attention, a light blush forming across his cheeks. How was one human being so adorable?

“Oh. So have you eaten this pork cutlet bowl recently?” Viktor asked.

A smile returned to Yuuri’s face. “Yes, I have it often.”

“Why? You haven’t won anything?” The look on Yuuri’s face was priceless. He just looked horrified but Viktor wasn’t done yet. “You need to get back to your weight at last year’s Grand Prix Final, at least before I can start coaching you.”

“Right,” Yuuri said, stretching out the word awkwardly. Yuuri was a very awkward person, Viktor was coming to realize. He lacked self-confidence. To think he’d gotten drunk and grinded on him. He had his work cut out for him.

* * *

“Wow. What a classic, tiny room. Is there a sofa?”

“No,” Yuuri said weakly, “I’m sorry it’s so small. We only had an unused banquet room available.” He was sitting on the floor near some of Viktor’s boxes.  He was going to successfully seduce Yuuri so he didn’t need to keep any of his stuff in his apartment in St. Petersburg. Might as well move it to where his beloved was.

“You seem anxious,” Viktor said with a wink. He knelt down next to Yuuri. “Tell me everything about you.” He put a hand under Yuuri’s chin, bringing his face up so they made eye contact. “What kind of rink do you skate at?” He leaned in closer. “What’s in this city? Is there a girl you like?” The most important question. If Yuuri was straight, it was over. He doubted it but drunk people did dumb things. He’d done many dumb things while drunk.

He brought a hand to Yuuri’s wrist, grasping his hand. Yuuri was blushing fiercely at this point but he didn’t seem repulsed. He seemed intrigued. It was a start.

“Before we start practicing, let’s build some trust in our relationship.” He wanted to show Yuuri his love. He wanted Yuuri to love him too. His lungs ached for release and his heart ached for Yuuri’s love.

Yuuri just stayed still for a moment, petrified. Then he backed up as quickly as possible until he was outside the room. It hurt more than Viktor wanted to let on.

“What? Why are you running away?”

“Uh, no reason.” But Yuuri’s face spoke through his lie. He was massively uncomfortable. Where was the confidence of the drunk man at the banquet? He had no problem being close to Viktor. Not that sober Yuuri’s awkward charm wasn’t cute. On the contrary, it was so endearing that Viktor found himself falling even more in love with him. But why didn’t he want him?

Yuuri ran away shortly after and Viktor let him go. He ran to the bathroom and coughed up more petals into the toilet. Another flower caught in his throat and he gagged and choked until it came up. He dumped all the petals he had collected into the toilet as well and flushed it. He needed to get rid of the evidence. He could make Yuuri love him. It would just take a little time. Time he hoped he still had.

* * *

Maybe he was being a little forceful. But he was on a strict timeline. So he stood outside Yuuri’s room, knocking on the door.

“Yuuri, let’s sleep together. As your coach, there’s so much I need to learn about you.”

“Nooo!” Yuuri said and then he gasped. There was a lot of rustling on the other side of the door.

“Yuuri?” He kept calling the other man’s name but he never came to open the door. Viktor figured as much. Yuuri just wasn’t comfortable with him yet. Hopefully just living near each other would help. But he had to be pushy.

He went back to his room, disappointed but not surprised. He sat on the floor. Makkachin walked up to him and licked his face. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, which transitioned into a horrible coughing fit. Bloody petals fell out of his mouth and onto the floor.

When he finally got his breathing back under control he just hugged his dog. Makkachin whined a little and put a paw on Viktor’s knee.

“I’m so close,” he whispered in Russian, “I’m so close.”

* * *

As much as Viktor truly did want to train Yuuri, his disease made it very difficult. They had to walk to his rink, Ice Castle Hatsetsu, no surprise there. And there were stairs in front. Viktor managed to climb them but Yuuri jogged up, seemingly unbothered by them. Good. But he didn’t want to seem odd in front of Yuuri. After all, the five time Grand Prix champion should be able to climb up a flight of stairs. His disease was slowly taking everything from him.

They met his friends, who were very kind and accommodating. Viktor had Yuuri go out on the ice to show off what he knew. He wanted to skate so badly but he knew his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. He felt the urge to get back out on the ice stronger than the urge to cough.

Yuuri didn’t do too much, a few jumps, half of which he flubbed, and a rather nice step sequence that Viktor didn’t recognize.

“He’s better when he thinks there’s no one here,” Yuuko said, “He’s no good under pressure.”

“So works himself up and dooms himself to failure,” Viktor commented.

“Yeah,” Yuuko replied, “He really loves skating. And he has so much free time to dedicate himself to it. I hope you’ll be able to bring out the best in him.”

And Viktor hoped so too.

* * *

Viktor had been at Yuuri’s house for a week, each day like a weight on him. He had to admit, he didn’t know Yuuri very well when he fell into unrequited love with him. But the more time they spent together, the more Viktor was sure. He loved Yuuri. He loved him so much his lungs ached with every breath he took.

He frequently had to excuse himself to cough up the petals. There were so many more now and covered in blood. He’d never coughed up this many flowers before either. They hurt his throat and he tried to ignore the quiet rattling he heard when he took a breath. His time was running out and he knew it.

So a week into his stay at Yu-topia Katsuki, he cornered Yuuri in his room. Yuuri was seemingly very uncomfortable but Viktor had to start forcing the issue. He was dying and he knew it.

“Yuuri, why are you so reserved around me?” Viktor asked.

“Oh. There’s no reason.” He looked at the floor next to Viktor.

Viktor couldn’t help but sigh. He felt so tired. “You’re acting like it now. Why can’t you relax around me? Do I scare you that badly?”

“Scare me?” Yuuri looked horrified and maybe even hurt. “You don’t scare me.”

“Do I intimidate you then? Do you think yourself unworthy of me? Why don’t you act around me like you do everyone else?”

Yuuri stood frozen. He wasn’t meeting Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri was so uncomfortable but he had to push. He didn’t have the time to wait.

“Yuuri?”

“Please, Viktor. I’m sorry. I just-I don’t know why you’d come here. Why you’d want to be _my_ coach. What brought you here?”

Viktor couldn’t help but smile. Finally. “You did, Yuuri. After the banquet, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and about your request. Once I found that video of you skating my routine, I came to be your coach. Only you brought me here, Yuuri.” He loved saying his name. He would say it forever if he could.

Yuuri looked at him blankly. “The banquet? I didn’t talk to you at the banquet. We only met at the Grand Prix. You offered me a photo and I walked away. I’m sorry, I was so flustered. But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They said that skaters had hearts of glass. And in that moment, Viktor could feel his glass heart shatter.

Yuuri didn’t remember the most important night of Viktor’s life.

Of course he didn’t. He’d been completely smashed; of course he wouldn’t remember. How could he seduce Yuuri when he didn’t remember? He must have thought Viktor was crazy for being here. If he didn’t remember, then it all seemed useless. It all made sense now. Yuuri’s behavior, the call.  Yuuri still thought Viktor was out of his league. And if he didn’t remember the request, then, in his mind, there was no reason for Viktor to be here.

Yuuri didn’t remember him.

Yuuri didn’t even know it but he’d just signed Viktor’s death warrant.

Viktor coughed. His lungs were burning, aching for release. So he coughed. Petals fell out of his mouth, blood dripping onto his hands. He couldn’t stop coughing. He took deep breaths but he couldn’t stop. The petals just kept coming out.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, rushing forward. Viktor sank to his knees and Yuuri knelt down next to him. He couldn’t get his breath back. He couldn’t breathe.

“Yuuri,” he said but nothing else would come out. Just more blood and petals.

“Viktor, hang on. I’ll call an ambulance. Just hold on.”

There was nothing else he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it. :) The story will be finished next Thursday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep my author's note from chapter 1 in mind while reading.

“Where is he?!” The voice was demanding, loud, and speaking heavily accented English. Yuuri looked up from where he was sitting. He didn’t see anyone but that voice carried. It was familiar but he couldn’t place it. Who was speaking English in a Japanese hospital? Yuuri walked down the hallway to see what was going on. He found the other Yuri there, arguing with a nurse who very clearly didn’t know English.

“Yuri?” he asked. The boy turned towards him angrily. Whatever rage he had increased tenfold in the span of a second.

“You,” he growled and ran towards him. Yuuri had to no time to react and Yuri kicked him in the stomach. He fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain. One of the nurses gasped.

“You deserve a lot worse than that,” Yuri yelled, “Where’s Viktor?”

“Is that how you greet me?” Yuuri asked, coughing. He took a moment to get his breath back before standing back up. He was a little concerned that Yuri would attempt to hit him again but he didn’t. He just stood there, medical mask pulled down under his chin, dressed in more animal print than Yuuri even owned, scowling at him, waiting for an answer.

“Viktor’s in the ICU,” Yuuri said, “He has Hanahaki Disease.”

“No shit he has Hanahaki Disease,” Yuri snapped.

Yuuri took notice of that. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. He nearly choked to death on the ice. Yakov threw him out unless he got the surgery.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in shock. He took a quick breath. Yuri knew? All this time he knew?

“Why the fuck do you think he wasn’t at Worlds, fatso?” It had nothing to do with finding a new direction. Viktor had been sick all this time.

“Yuri, do you know who he loves?” Yuuri asked quietly, “Maybe we could contact them and tell them.”

“You mean you didn’t figure it out? You’re stupid as well as fat.”

“Can you stop insulting me for a second and just tell me who he’s in love with?!”

“It’s you, you idiot!”

Yuuri recoiled as if struck. “What?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It’s you. Why the fuck do you think he’s here? Ever since that stupid banquet where you got shitfaced and grinded on him, he’s been in love with you. Now he’s dying because of you!”

“He loves me?” Yuuri whispered. It couldn’t be true. It was like a dream come true, something that only happened in Yuuri’s wildest fantasies. Viktor Nikiforov, five time Grand Prix champion, owner of more gold metals than anyone could count, figure skating legend, was _in love_ with him? “But I love him.”

“Clearly not if he’s in the ICU,” Yuri said.

“Katsuki-san?” A nurse walked out of Viktor’s room.

Yuuri turned around. “Yes?” he asked in Japanese, “How is he?”

“He has very late stage Hanahaki Disease. To be honest, it’s amazing he’s survived as long as he has.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Yuuri asked.

“I think it would be best for you to say your goodbyes,” the nurse said, “I’m sorry.” He walked back into the room.

“Well, what did he say?” Yuri demanded.

“He said to say our goodbyes.” Yuuri couldn’t believe it. Viktor was dying. He was dying because he loved him. Why didn’t he just have the surgery? Why didn’t Viktor just forget him?

“Go ahead,” Yuri said, “I only came here to drag him back to Russia.”

“Thank you, Yuri,” Yuuri said. He walked inside Viktor’s room.

The room was white, blank white walls, cream colored tiled floor, white bedsheets, white machines. Everything was white. Viktor himself was so pale. He was asleep, lying on the bed. He was hooked up to multiple machines, an IV in his arm, oxygen mask over his face, heart monitor recording his heartbeats. The nurse sat in the corner, watching him. It made Yuuri uncomfortable but he knew he had to be there.

“Viktor?” Yuuri whispered in English but he didn’t stir. They’d probably sedated him. Yuuri still hoped he was listening. He grabbed a chair and brought it over to Viktor’s bed. He took a seat. Cautiously, he reached out for Viktor’s hand. It was so cold.

“Yuri told me everything,” Yuuri said, “He said that Yakov kicked you off the ice so long as you were sick. Why didn’t you just have the surgery? Then you’d be able to skate again. Besides, what’s so great about me?”

Viktor didn’t react. His chest continued to rise and fall.

“Yuri was wrong, wasn’t he? You don’t love me. This is for someone else. You wouldn’t die for me? Please, Viktor, don’t die for me.”

Yuuri started crying but he didn’t stop talking, becoming more hysterical as he spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you, Viktor. Don’t die for me. I love you. I love you. Please don’t die. Please. I'm so sorry. I love you." Viktor didn't respond. But the screech of the heart monitor as Viktor flatlined gave Yuuri the answer he knew he'd say if he could _._

“No, you don't.”

* * *

**Seven months later**

It was cold in Russia. Granted, it was November so Yuuri would have been more surprised if it wasn’t cold. He was bundled up in his coat but the wind seemed to cut right through it. It wasn’t like there were a lot of tall structures to block it.

Thankfully, the caretaker spoke English and was able to point Yuuri where he wanted to go. He had to scan the area but he finally found what he was looking for.

“Hi, Viktor,” Yuuri said. The stone in front of him was written in Russian characters but Yuuri knew what it said. _Viktor Nikiforov 25th December 1988 – 10th April 2016_

He put down the flowers he had been carrying. Purple hyacinth.

“This is a little weird. I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri said awkwardly, “I’m sorry I didn’t go to your funeral. A lot happened for me right after you died.” He coughed weakly.

“The Rostelecom Cup is going on,” Yuuri continued, “You should see how much Yuri has improved. He’s been working hard.” He paused. “I’m sorry I can’t live up to your dream. I won’t be getting a gold medal at the Grand Prix. You were right, you know. Back then, I didn’t love you. I idolized you. Now I realize, those are two different things.”

Yuuri coughed again. Purple hyacinth petals fell on the grave in front of him.

“I heard once that a tragedy is the missed opportunity. I guess this is our tragedy.” Yuuri laughed weakly. “To think, if you’d lived three more days, maybe you could have recovered. Or maybe not. Maybe we were just doomed to love each other like this. I don’t know.”

He sighed and coughed again. The purple petals were coated in red.

“The doctor only gave me six months. I’ve already beaten their odds. I thought maybe I could last until the Grand Prix, but it’s impossible now. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll live to see it. My friend, Phichit is in it. You followed him on Instagram, remember? He was so happy that day. He made me take a picture with him.” Yuuri smiled at the memory.

“I’m tired, Viktor. I think I’ll be joining you soon.” He knelt down next to the stone. “I love you. Please wait for me.” He got up and coughed again. His lungs hurt but they always did nowadays. He always felt the urge to cough. More petals scattered onto the ground.

“Goodbye, Viktor. I’ll see you soon.” Yuuri turned around and walked away. It wouldn’t be long now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Thank you for reading. The sequel will be up on Monday. Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed the story. :)


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